


Buttons II

by OracleObscured



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Ass Slapping, BDSM mention, Button Lovin', Button Worship, F/M, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Frock Coat Fetish, Kissing, Love Bites, One Shot, Oral Sex, Sequel, anniversary sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 14:45:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7896751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OracleObscured/pseuds/OracleObscured
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More frock coat fun with our favorite Potions master. Hermione’s ambitious anniversary plans are put into motion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buttons II

Severus closed his eyes and melted into the pliant warmth of her body atop him. They had only just returned from breakfast when she accosted him on the sofa, snaring him with her thighs and straddling him like a thoroughbred. Apparently that wake-up blowjob earlier had been but the tip of the anniversary iceberg. He should have seen this coming. Sexual celebrations were her speciality. Nary a holiday passed without some erotic escapade to mark the occasion. And if the holidays didn’t fall fast enough, she made up her own to slake her lust. Fellatio Friday. Sensual Sunday. Muff-diving Monday. No day was safe from her souped-up sex drive.

He wasn’t complaining. Incessant sex kept him sane. Being in a constant state of sated bliss left him more mellow than a hooka-high Hufflepuff with an ounce of Harmony Hash. He still maintained his gruff demeanor in class—he needed to keep the little buggers in line—but when he was alone with Hermione, he was relaxed and tranquil. _Professor Snape_ never entered their quarters . . . unless she wanted to play Horny Head Girl Meets Professor Paddle.

He couldn’t believe it had been eleven years since they’d tied the knot. It seemed as though it was only yesterday that she’d been walking down the aisle in her long white dress. How had more than a decade passed in the blink of an eye? Why did the good times go so quickly?

She left his lips to kiss her way over to his neck. His attention contracted to a pinpoint of sensation with every peck. The warm breeze of her breath tickled his jaw, and the rest of the room blurred to background static. Every ragged inhale and exhale recaptured his concentration. He would lose himself soon, melding with her moment by moment, drawing out every second of pleasure. Reality would alter, and he would find himself wandering in a haze of lust and sweaty skin, coming up for air only to dive back down into a realm of tangled limbs and gasping sighs.

Thank Merlin it was the weekend. They could stay in the rooms until Monday if they became paralyzed by perversity.

She pulled down the top edge of his coat and shirt collar to get at his neck. Dammit. Why couldn’t she just unbutton them? He couldn’t feel her lips properly. This wasn’t foreplay, this was titillation torture.

He went to undo his coat, but she stopped him, clasping his wrist in her little hand as if she possessed the strength to restrain him. Of course he could overpower her with no effort, but he enjoyed Hermione-the-Aggressor. She was a wicked little minx with some brilliant ideas. Best to let her direct the action.

She undid the top two buttons on both his coat and shirt as she nuzzled the line of his jaw. His stomach did a drunken double Gainer before belly smacking into his balls. Undeterred by the dizziness of his viscera, his dick leapt to attention, triumphantly high-fiving his trousers in a flashy celebration of success. Goddamn gloating genitalia. _Would you calm the fuck down? She’s obviously got some game plan we know nothing about._

The first order of business seemed to be a blood draw. If she sucked his neck any harder, he was going to start calling her Vampira. The warm sting of suction and the scrape of her teeth only encouraged his cock to greater displays of rampant jubilation. His jugular was sure to be swathed in rosy ropes of overzealous affection.

This was why he continued to wear multiple layers of clothing and concealing high collars. His body was a mangled testament to her ardor. Scratch marks razed his back in rows of red fields. His arse was blotted with finger-shaped bruises. Love bites crept up his neck and down his chest, marking her path across his body. He never healed a single one. They were medals of honor, his reward for years of sacrifice and denial. He wore each medallion with pride—but he couldn’t very well expect his students to take him seriously if he paraded about looking like a billboard of debauchery. Once again his most noble efforts were going unrecognized by the general public. While he enjoyed this salacious secret, part of him wanted the world to witness his wife’s insatiable passion for him. She was an animal—and sometimes the keeper gets mauled.

But what would happen if someone saw the bawdy banners he left blazoned across _her_ skin? Would they think he was a five-star lover or simply a ruthless ruffian in need of an anger management intervention? He knew the answer to that. No matter how many Orders of Merlin he received, everyone would always assume the worst. Her cherry red cheeks wouldn’t be signs of a spanking, they would be proof of domestic violence. That was why she always wore long sleeves: to cover the chafing from the restraints. Her skirts and robes hid the rest. No one ever saw the crimson stripes of the cane or the delicate daisy chain of cornflower blue finger-bruises ringing her hips.

No one except him.

He undressed her every night, kissing each reminder of their last encounter, recalling the exact moment of contusion creation. He would match his hand to each mark and relive every thrust. Reminiscing was a potent aphrodisiac. For both of them. By the time he finished kissing her better, she’d be whimpering and tearing at his hair, begging him to leave a fresh layer of lust across her succulent skin. Sometimes he obliged. Sometimes he let her heal before indulging in his rougher fantasies.

Or were they her fantasies? He was no longer certain which one of them was instigating their more rigorous couplings. She was an imaginative witch, and that translated into an infinite number of scandalous suggestions and steamy scenarios. While he was most aroused by the slew of sensate possibilities sex supplied, she was a glutton for stories and dramatic tension. Anticipation was the name of her game. If he even mentioned that he had something wicked in store for her later that night, she’d spend the day working herself to a sexual frenzy. At lunch he might murmur a seductive “you’ve been a naughty girl” in her ear, and before dinner rolled around, he’d find her stripped down to her knickers with the tawse between her teeth. Another fun game was to leave one of their many sex books lying open on the coffee table, silently hinting at what was in store. Sometimes she didn’t even make it until dinner; she’d show up during his Advanced Potions class and request a conference with him in the storeroom. Discussion was never her intent.

But most of the time, Hermione took matters into her own hands. Occasionally he was jumped in the halls and dragged to an abandoned classroom for some mutual molestation. Quite often she would absently touch or stroke him while they read together, and things would invariably escalate until they were tearing off each other's clothes like a couple of sex-crazed maniacs. He was never sure if that was her plan all along or just a fortuitous outcome. Maybe she didn’t know either. He didn’t like to comb her thoughts with Legilimency anymore; he preferred the excitement of surprise and the delectable rush of spontaneity.

Right at that very moment, he had no idea what might be next on her agenda. She had obviously plotted some grand orchestration in honor of their anniversary. That x-rated greeting card she’d made him with multiple references to steel had actually been a warning. How foolish of him to think it was just a ribald memento memorializing eleven years of marriage when, in actuality, it was a courtesy card politely informing him he might not be ambulatory the rest of the weekend.

Thank God.

Severus threaded his fingers into her hair and guided her back to his face. He latched onto her lower lip and gave it a sensual suck before going in for more. Her mouth was madness, her tongue lunging for his and demanding a delirious game of Duck Duck Goose, tapping each of his teeth before lapping his tongue, choosing it as her rival. When she tagged him, he chased after her. Round and round. His tongue pounced on hers and wrestled it into submission. Drawing that slick pink muscle into his mouth, he suckled her in an oral victory dance. A moan of defeat was offered up, vibrating along her lips to his.

Yanking her hips closer, Severus claimed his reward. She giggled and ground her crotch into his to concede the race. He growled as her concealed core warmed him with its radiant heat. Bloody hell, she must be on fire if he could feel her through her jeans. Why, in the name of all that is logical, was she still wearing clothes? And why hadn’t she unbuttoned his blasted coat yet? Was she trying to sweat him out of it? If she wanted a sodium-rich snack, he was about to cross the threshold from perspiring to salt lick.

Oh, blessed Merlin, she was undoing another button. _Just a few more, love. Get me out of this sauna._ Hermione detached her lips from his with a slurpy pop. A glistening string of spittle connected them for a moment then snapped and sat on her plump petal like a drop of dew. She smiled at him and licked it away, never ceasing her obsessive hip undulations. She was going to dry hump him into an insane asylum.

Hoping to inspire her actions, Snape touched her tummy with one finger, just above her trousers, then trailed down the front of her zip, caressing her heated labia through the dense denim. _Is it time to eat this pussy?_

Apparently not. Hermione leaned further back, and arching her spine so her tits were thrust into his face, she peeled up her peach jumper. Severus growled as she revealed the bare skin of her belly—one step closer to nubile nudity. She paused for a moment at her chest—making him wait for it—then exposed her breasts in a graceful unfurling. His breath caught for an instant. _My tricky little nymphette. When did you get that?_

Her tits were hiked up in some lacy green feat of first class engineering. _Happy anniversary to me._ Much to his wife’s consternation, she looked absolutely scrumptious in Slytherin green. It was good to see she’d finally come around on the subject. And she’d chosen such a splendid piece to kick off her new color scheme. How was this even material? He’d seen moth wings made of sturdier weave. Except for where the vertical stripes obscured his view, he could see straight through it. Her nipples looked exquisite, like two pink tinged emeralds bejeweling her breasts. The green overlap made for a murky, but mouthwatering, focal point.

Was that him growling like that? Of course it was. It always was. Some primitive part of his brain took command whenever her clothes came off. And a grunt could have so many subtle nuances.

For instance, ragged grunting followed by an abrupt mouthful of ephemeral green underpinnings meant “I like your new bra.” He nipped her stiff nipple through the fabric just to make sure she got the message. It must have been loud and clear, because she moaned as if to say “Glad you like it. I picked it out just for you.”

After eleven years they really understood one another.

He sucked her deeper into his mouth, soaking her turgid tip in a pool of drool; she had to accept the consequences of such a delicious wardrobe. He felt a fluttering of fingers at his chest and realized she had loosed one more lone button. What was with the infinite lag time? Was she trying to use his own powers of patient enticement against him? His little hellcat didn’t think she could surpass the master, did she? Surely not. Teasing of such complexity should only be attempted by a professional.

Growling loudly, he made it clear he didn’t appreciate being boiled alive in his own frock coat. There was a time and place for such games, and waiting until his body temperature surpassed “malarial fever” was not the moment to commence a seductive slow motion striptease.

His growl became a rumble of menace. _Unbutton me this instant! Don’t get all coy with me._ Severus slid his hand down her stomach, feeling for her fly. If he got her out of her jeans, she might take the hint and cease this torrid trouser torment.

He was also curious whether her knickers matched her bra.

Her zip went down, each tooth popping apart, the sound muffled by denim. He unbuttoned the top and detached his mouth from her breast so he could peek down the front of her trousers. Damn. He couldn’t see a thing. Severus grabbed her by the hips and lifted her up. Her legs unfolded, and she stood between his spread legs like a wobbly foal. He pulled down her jeans and smiled at the tiny green panties barely covering her little mound.

They were just as transparent as the bra; he could see the dark chocolate of her pubic hair shading her sex through the thin material. The stringy sides of her knickers clung to her hips like candy floss. He could probably rip them right off her with one hand. Perhaps later. He wanted to enjoy his mint chocolate chip wife a moment longer.

Humming in pleasure, he smiled approvingly up at her and nudged her hip. _You know what I like._ Hermione grinned and slowly swiveled her hips, turning her back to him so he had a face full of arse.

Bloody hell! An infinitesimal triangle of fabric concealed her crack like a second skin, following the curve of her rump until it disappeared between her thighs. There was a gentle dip where it had ridden up her valley, a subtle gully of gusset. He tipped his head to the side to see if it was trapped in her undercarriage. Hmmmm. He’d better get in there and investigate.

Leaning forward, he mashed his mouth to her right cheek and gave her a well deserved nip. She jumped in surprise, but Severus held her still, gripping her hip firmly in one hand. His other hand slithered between her knees, insidiously snaking up her inner thigh. Always eager for more, she opened her legs for his groping ease. His fingers skimmed the upper reaches of her soft flesh until he grazed the damp heat of her covered cunny. She had already soaked through her tissue paper panties. He couldn’t stop tracing the line of her sex, his finger whispering back and forth across her oil-slicked slit.

Tipping his head to the left, he used his nose to nudge aside her nebulous knickers, burying his beak in her dark crevice. His tongue delved into her fissure and got a taste of some anniversary arse. She moaned, guttural and rich. The sound coursed through his body and settled like a coiled weight in his balls. He reached between her legs and cupped her cunt, his fingertips drumming against her labia, keeping her at a slow simmer. She arched her back and grabbed his hand in an attempt to amp up the bass on his digital drum solo.

 _Nice try, little girl._ He snatched back his hand and smacked her bum, leaving a pink imprint on her right cheek. _No more pussy play until you undress me._ Severus leaned back and gave her other cheek a good smack. He knew her compulsive brain abhorred an uneven bum.

She spun around, her eyes smoking like charred walnut. Thank Merlin. She was ready to ride. And that meant it was naked time. He went to undo his frock coat, but she smacked his hand away again. He glared at her. _If you’re not going to do it, I have to. I have no intention of celebrating our anniversary with a bout of heat stroke._

Hermione ignored his perturbation and shoved him back. She leaned over him and ran her hand down his chest, her index finger gliding over the hillock of each button. Good lord, he’d created a monster. The girl’s button fetish was out of control. He’d give her five minutes of frock coat fondling, but if she didn’t have his coat open by then, he was going to turn her over his knee give her an anniversary spanking she wouldn't soon forget.

Severus spread his arms along the back of the sofa, offering her free rein over his woolen wardrobe. If she wanted to pet him until her skin was sanded down to the bone, that was her choice. And she did provide a sapid sight for his eyes to feast on while she played. She put the tit in titillating.

She knelt down between his feet, and Severus arched one brow. _What are you up to, my dear?_ Hermione flashed him a sweet smile, but it was tinged with an undercurrent of wickedness that left his cock stiff and ready. She lifted her hands to his chest and undid the next button. Then the next. Thank Merlin for small favors.

But when she got to the next, she stopped and leaned forward, her eyes locked with his. His dick was familiar with that expression. It was the same way she stared at him in the midst of a heated helping of head. Was that what all this was about? She wanted to slowly unwrap her lolly to prolong the pleasure of her oral overtures? He was all in favor of that plan.

Except she didn’t seem to be headed for his crotch. Her lips touched the front of one button, and her pink tongue appeared. She looked up at him as she licked his black button in the most depraved manner imaginable, her wet tongue sensuously teasing and twisting so he could see every glistening taste bud. Navigating the button’s circumference as if it were his knob, she flickered across the center and teased the holes the same way she prodded at his urethra in search of pre-ejaculatory fluids. His cock jolted with jealousy. That licking was for him not a bunch of inanimate buttons! She moved to the next one, swirling her tongue in a serpentine dance, nipping the edges so his imagination went into overdrive and he could practically feel her teeth grazing his glans.

She unfastened the button that had just received her attention as she slid down to the next one. Another button buffet ensued, her mouth doing things that made his stomach lurch with longing. Then she moved to the next one. Soon she was nuzzling his aching erection through two layers of wool as she polished off his last two buttons like a frock coat connoisseur. When the last button had been ravished, she pushed open his coat with the flair of a magician’s assistant revealing the final trick. Cool air wafted around his body, and Severus sighed in relief. The back of his shirt was stuck to him; a shiver prickled his spine as the blissful breeze chilled his baked body.

Severus sank down lower on the couch and lifted his bulging fly toward her face. _Now the rest. I didn’t know these were the incredible shrinking trousers when I put them on this morning._

Hermione grinned broadly, obviously pleased by his enthusiastic response below the belt. She nuzzled his nuts through his placket then sniffed out the contours of his cock like a bloodhound searching for a bone. Severus dug his fingers into the sofa’s back to keep from ripping open his own fly. She must have been ready for the main course, because she swiftly undid every button without hesitation.

He grunted in gratitude and reached down with one hand to pet her head. His length leapt into the open, tenting his boxers like carnal camping equipment. She pulled his shirt tales free before pressing her face to his belly. Her nose burrowed into his navel, and he felt the dull abrasion of her teeth at the top of his elastic waistband. She snagged the waist of his boxers in her bite and lifted the edge over his leaking knob. Grinning up at him with her prize, she sank down and held the elastic below his balls. Her head inclined toward his cock, and she grunted at him with a pleading look.

Severus smirked and pulled his dick against his belly then lifted his sac for her. She made a noise of thanks then carefully anchored his waistband beneath his balls so everything was on display. After placing a soft kiss to each testicle, she lapped a slow line up the back of his sex, flickering along the underside of his head for a mind-bending minute of oral acrobatics. He stroked the side of her head, growling in pleasure until his throat crackled with raw exuberance.

She looked up and gave him the most inappropriate smile. Oh gods. She was up to something. Something crafty. He’d seen that look almost every day for the first year of their marriage. Now she liked to save it for special occasions, springing it on him when he least expected it. While everything she did got his blood pumping, seeing that lust-filled look produced a surge of adrenaline that left him feeling as though he’d just taken a nosedive on his broom.

Hovering over his glans, she stuck out her tongue, distorting her smile into the visage of a hungry canine. Her hands slid up the front of his shirt as she panted over his prick. His cock knew exactly how to close the distance. Solidifying to steel, his hard-on sprang into the air to kiss her tongue. She grinned in delight but kept still and didn’t encourage any prolonged contact. His knob tagged her tongue three more times then, on the fourth, she dropped her head and caught him in her mouth. She kept her eyes locked with his, her pupils expanding like black holes gobbling up the brown. The whisper of her breath on his shaft had his body trembling with anticipation. When was she going to suck him? His erection pleaded for the warm embrace of her mouth.

She didn’t engulf him though. Loosely trapping his bulbous tip between her lips, she skimmed her hands further up his torso until she located his nipples beneath the thin, crisp cotton of his dress shirt. There was a sweet pinch and then a rasping scrape of thumbnail over each tiny nubbin. A shiver of excitement rippled through his belly. His left hand still clutched the back of the sofa, and he knew his fingers would soon be cramping with the effort to restrain himself.

Her tongue twirled once around his throbbing glans, stealing the focus from his nipples. She slid her hands back down his body and ducked her fingers under the bottom edge of his shirt; her fingertips tickled just out of sight, dancing over the sensitive patch of pelvis just above his pubic hair, trailing along the line of fur that connected navel to groin.

Darting back out, she grasped his shirt tales in either hand. Her eyes burned with fierce heat, and she took a deep breath, her arms flexing. One more swirl of her tongue was the only warning he got.

A string of ripping pops dotted his chest as she tore open his shirt. Buttons pinged off in all directions like a Christmas cracker explosion. His shock was drowned out by the sudden influx of cool air on his bare skin and the intense suction her mouth unleashed on his knob at the precise moment of dress shirt destruction. The bombardment of sensorial blows wracked his body, a mini-orgasm of shimmering release skipping over every inch of his skin like sparkling champagne. His cock ejected no fluid, but the pleasure left him temporarily incapacitated. Shuddering in ecstasy, Snape pitched back his head and let his eyelids flutter closed. _Gods, that was good!_

Hermione pulled her mouth from his sex with a deliciously sloppy suck. Severus groaned as she kissed his now naked belly. He needed to fuck her. Immediately. She could torture him all she wanted later, he just needed to empty his balls.

Lifting his head, Severus stared down at her and, with one hand, clamped her face to his navel. Rolling his hips in a slow circle, he ground his length along the front of her throat, poking into the bottom of her chin with each thrust. She giggled into his stomach and reached between his legs to cup his bulging bollocks.

That was enough. He grabbed her hair and made her look at him. That look brooked no minced messages. She knew what he wanted.

Hermione smiled and started to climb his body with a feline swagger that set off all his dominance triggers. He grabbed her by the waist and hauled her into his lap with a short growl of warning. The muggy heat between her legs had grown to a lagoon. Her knickers were sopping. He yanked the gusset aside and slid his fingers over the soft thicket blanketing her sex; her muff was saturated with arousal. His index and middle finger were invited in on a welcome mat of silk.

Her face pinched with a fit of pained passion, and her teeth sank into her lower lip as she moaned wantonly. He fucking loved that look. That was her pound-me-hard-I’m-desperate-for-you face. _All in good time, my avaricious little prick tease. Turnabout’s fair play._

Lightly, he teased her engorged clitoris with the side of his thumb. She whimpered and grabbed hold of the front of his open coat. He watched her closely as she rode his hand, observing her breathing and noting any tension in her body. When her belly began to flex and her pussy began to cut off his circulation, he eased his fingers from her body, which earned him an angry roar of frustration.

Severus just smiled and brought his fingers to her lips. Her mouth opened automatically, and she greedily sucked him clean. That manic little tongue of hers darted between his fingers, lapping and swiping over every inch. _That’s it. I want to taste that pussy when I kiss you. I’ll lick you to heaven later, but I need an appetizer to hold me over._

Gradually, he drew back his fingers, and as predicted, she followed. Severus led her to his face, and when she was within reach, he dragged his fingers from her mouth and replaced them with his tongue. Snatch-flavored snogging was one of life’s greatest pleasures. Her candy-coated kisses melted in his mouth like milk chocolate. Sometimes she’d pull him aside between classes to drag him away for some clandestine canoodling, and he’d find her tongue glazed with her own excitement. It turned him on beyond belief to know she’d been sticking her fingers in her honeypot and gorging herself on her own sweet syrup just before seeking him out for a sex-seasoned snog-fest. He didn’t know how she pulled it off, but he liked to imagine her touching herself under her desk in the middle of class, working her pussy to a fever pitch so she could marinade her mouth in creamy confection just for him.

She started to buck, greasing his rod for insertion . . . or just giving her clit some relief. Severus reached down to position his pike for her impalement pleasure, but she smacked his hand away. _What the fuck!_ He growled into her mouth. _Don’t tease me now, little girl._

Hermione leaned back, her breast heaving and her eyes half-lidded. She backed out of his lap, one hand on his chest to keep him where he was. Snape snarled out a tense huff but did as requested. This better not be another agonizing detour. His balls were about to burst.

She turned her back to him, watching him over one shoulder. Severus cocked his eyebrow and waited to see what she had in mind. Her hands smoothed over her hips, and she teased her knickers down below her bum.

 _Too slow._ He ripped them down her legs, leaving them in a green pile at her feet. _Much better._

She smiled at him and stepped out of her wet panties. He knew that smile. It was a staple expression in his life. A necessity. He remembered the very first time he’d pulled down her knickers—she’d given him that same excited look. It became his life’s mission to see that smile again and again. He had quickly discovered that his Gryffindor good girl loved to be a bad girl, and having her knickers removed, especially for a spanking, left her wetter than a wading pool. He used that reaction to his advantage almost every single day. Occasionally he used it _throughout_ the day. If he wanted to have a little fun with her, he’d meet with her in either her office or his and order her to lift her skirts. That always got a good reaction on its own. Then he’d tease her, caressing her hidden charms, stroking her round rump. When she seemed adequately antsy, he’d pull down her panties and check her much more intimately. Sometimes he just pulled her underwear back up and told her to keep her hands off her pussy until later that night. Sometimes he removed her knickers and hid them in his pocket for some surreptitious sniffing between lessons. Sometimes he pulled them up so they grated her clit and rubbed her deepest recesses. He made her keep them like that until he undressed her later. He had to be careful with that one—every time he did it, she mauled him like a bear, and they wound up missing dinner.

But what was she up to this time? Did she want a spanking? That didn’t seem likely. There was a ritual to their spanking, and she wasn’t initiating the proper sequence. Hermione arched her back, aiming her arse toward him. Severus licked his lips. _Yes, love, I adore that backside. Why is it not bouncing in my lap while you ride me?_

She was getting herself worked up, trailing her fingers over her skin the exact same way he touched her when he was in a hyper-sensual mood. Pulling her cheek to the side, she gave him a peek of her pucker. Severus wrapped one hand around his cock and squeezed it tightly to constrain its anxious bouncing.

She leaned forward and pulled her cheeks completely apart, her breathing suddenly harsh and ragged. Ah. So that was what she wanted. He echoed her arousal with a growl of his own. _Where’s the damn lube?_

As if reading his mind, the jar he’d brewed the day before sailed across the room and settled next to him on the sofa. He glanced at her in shock. How did she do that?

The deliriously giddy grin lighting her face had him laughing in seconds. So, she’d finally succeeded in her wandless endeavors. Tricky little witch. That explained her covert maneuvering for the past couple of months . . . and the odd piles of paperclips he kept finding around their room. Was summoning her limit, or could she do more yet? He’d interrogate her later. Right now he had buggery on the brain.

Severus kissed her bum in congratulations and opened the jar. She inhaled sharply and used both hands to pull her cheeks wide. Scooping out a blob of slick gel, Severus quickly greased his length then returned for more and patted a portion over her brown rosebud. She hadn’t begged for a buggering in at least a month. Their usual anal rate was once a week, but sometimes she went through phases of wanting it every night or not at all. He had no idea what tipped her in one direction or the other, but he loved the way she purred when he took her arse. Severus suspected her moods were largely in control of which fetishes struck her fancy at any particular time. She liked to be buggered when she was at her most vulnerable, which he found perplexing. He certainly wouldn’t want anyone shoving anything up his arse when he was feeling insecure. But she seemed to find it soothing. Perhaps it was the way he went about it. He was always worried about hurting her, so anal was done with an air of care and comfort.

And quite honestly he couldn’t go any faster than their usual pace or he’d blow his load in less than a minute. Her arse had some kind of magical power over him. He didn’t know if it was physical or psychological, but his stamina was laid to waste as soon as he crossed the threshold of her sphincter.

Pressing his fingers into her backdoor, he slicked her walls in copious layers of lubrication. The deeper he went, the louder she moaned. Her wiggling posterior worked his digits in and out for a minute then she sank onto his hand in a wordless plea for more. Severus would give her as much as she could handle in just a moment.

Adding another digit, he prepped her for what was to come. In the midst of shagging, she loved a finger or two up her arse, but they hadn’t gone beyond that in so long he was worried she might have lost some of her anal flexibility. When he tried another finger, her moaning became punctuated by panting. Out of practice, her arse had reverted to its original tightness.

It suddenly dawned on him that was exactly what she wanted. She’d been holding off on the buggery to ensure that their anniversary was explosive.

What a thoughtful—and perverse—way to celebrate their marriage. Gods, he loved her.

When she relaxed around his fingers, he carefully pulled out and patted her rump. _Okay, love, you’re ready._

She stuck out her bum even further and backed toward him. Severus grinned and grabbed her hip with one hand and his dick with the other. He aimed himself at her hovering hole and guided her into place. Hermione reached between her legs and gripped his cock in her hot fist then pressed him to her twitching little notch. She rubbed him back and forth, occasionally dipping into her dimple. It was like sliding his knob through a humid valley of satin dew. The slickness was otherworldly.

She kept testing her backdoor for entry, easing down so her body began to swallow him then pulling back up and teasing herself further. Or maybe she was trying to make him lose his mind. He wasn’t sure. After six false starts, the seventh attempt was surprisingly deep. She took half of him in one languid squat. His cock disappeared up her heart-shaped arse, and he groaned at both the sensation and the visual. She rolled her hips, loosening herself up and settling into the stretch. Severus cleaned off his lubed hand and palmed her flanks to help her balance, but he couldn’t help stroking the meaty curve of her buttocks in the process. Sweet Circe, how he loved that bum.

She bobbed atop him like a buoy on the surf, lightly slipping him in and out of her cinched channel. Her mellifluous moans morphed to soft cries of needy excitement. He concurred. This was outstanding. He mumbled a soft strand of soothing praise, making his adoration for her beautiful backside abundantly clear. He told her what spectacular wife she was and promised to eat every inch of her luscious cranny before lunch. Or _for_ lunch.

Her breathing deepened, her desire growing with every new centimeter of insertion. Suddenly, she sank down all the way so her soft cheeks nestled against his pelvis. They both cursed simultaneously, basking in the intimate intensity of their constricted connection.

It took them both a couple minutes to regain a productive train of thought. Severus would have stayed lost in the splendor of her spastic sphincter for another ten minutes if she hadn’t snapped him out of his rectal reverie. Her hands fell below her hips, searching for his touch. He skimmed his palms down the sides of her thighs, and she grabbed hold of his sleeves. Her fingers clutched the black buttons lining his forearm as her hips began to swirl and rock. Severus stared at her sinuous spine, watching the muscles in her back flex and move beneath her soft skin. She rolled her head from side to side, which tumbled her turbulent tresses along the cliffs of her shoulders. He longed to feel the tickle of her insane mane all over his body.

Hermione pulled his hands around her then leaned back into him, reclining against his chest. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled her familiar scent; it sent his brain reeling. The aroma conjured up memories of all the other times he’d burrowed his nose into her curly locks. Over the years it had become his preferred atmosphere. Oxygen wasn’t as satisfying when it didn’t smell of vanilla soaked cinnamon apples.

She lifted his right hand to her left breast and readjusted her grip so she could cling to his sleeve at a new angle. Her eyes followed his fingers, her hair brushing against his forehead as her head turned. Severus could just imagine what she was seeing—his fingertip circling the pink of her areola through her Slytherin-esque bra, that pert bud springing up for further stimulation, his hand half hidden by his sleeve, the black material stark against her skin.

Severus froze. So that’s what this was all about. His goddamn frock coat. She’d left him clothed on purpose. She wanted her buggery wrapped in wool and endless buttons. That little pervert. A week ago she’d blatantly called it his fuck coat. At the time, he'd thought it was just an amusing Freudian slip, but now he suspected that she’d moved beyond fetish into obsession. Fellatio Fridays would soon become Fuck Coat Fridays, and he’d have to shag her in full regalia so she could get her fix.

Of course this was all his fault. He’d been using his clothing to tease her for over a decade; she was bound to associate his wardrobe with sex. How many times had he stripped her totally naked and then turned her over his knee for a spanking, using the scratchiness of the wool to keep her from wiggling around too much? How many times had he played the part of the lecherous teacher who sat at his desk fully dressed while she gorged herself on his manhood through his open fly? How many times had he told her what a naughty girl she was while he loosened his sleeves, the promise of a paddling balanced on the release of that final button? He’d brought this on himself.

Not that he wasn’t aroused by her button-themed desire, he just liked being naked with her. But he could forgo that a couple times a week to keep her juices flowing. And if she wanted a Victorian flair to their fucking, he should introduce her to a whole new realm of historical punishment possibilities. He’d have to get her a chemise and some split seam drawers. And a corset. Yes. His brain bubbled with bright ideas. His naughty nymph was sure to earn scads of dirty discipline—she just couldn't keep her hands out of her slippery little cunny. He might have to find her a stout chastity belt to deter her busy fingers. Oh, she’d love that.

Now that he knew where the roots of her lust lay, he could capitalize on her carnal ideations and make their anniversary festivities a scorcher. _Does my licentious little lioness need a good dose of frock coat fornication? Let’s get you set up then._ Severus summoned the full-length mirror from the corner and stationed it directly in front of them. She stilled. Pulling one hand from her tight grip, he gathered her hair to the side so he could watch the show.

Severus kept his right arm across her body, the black of his sleeve draping her like a sash. He tightened his grip and locked her back against his chest. Their eyes met in the reflection, and he gave her a knowing smirk. _Yes, love, I’ve got your number, don’t I?_ His left hand slid along her side, appearing at the top of her leg. She watched as it slithered over the soft skin of her inner thigh. Sinking his fingers into her flesh, he forced her leg to the side. She gasped, but he didn’t give her much chance to breathe. Rocking his hips in a gentle but persistent rhythm, he showed her just how lovely she looked with his cock buried in her backside.

Her eyes locked between her legs, and she spread both thighs for a better view. They could both clearly see his thick shaft gliding in an out of her like a piston, shining with lube and flickering in the warm glow of the fire. Severus reached down and spread her labia with two fingers. Her folds gleamed gold in the firelight, blinking to pink when the flames guttered and popped.

Pressing his lips to the back of her ear, Severus ordered her to keep her eyes on the mirror. His finger dipped into her depths, and he felt the slow slide of his cock through her back wall. Curling his finger, he found her hotspot and firmly flexed his fingertip along its bumpy contours. Her moan was delirious. She pulled up her feet and braced them along the edge of the seat.

 _No, no_ , he admonished, laughing in his head. _I’m not staying. I’m just gathering some provisions._

Dragging his hand from her dripping slit, he lifted it to her mouth and reapplied a fresh coat of satin gloss. She watched him in the mirror, whimpering at the sight of his finger and cock thrusting in tandem. When her tongue was sufficiently sweetened with her own nectar, he turned her face to his and plunged into her mouth.

Her squeak of surprise was incinerated by the heat of their kiss. She lifted her hand and hung onto the open edge of his coat with a backwards grip, twitching in time with the beat. Severus searched her oral cavity for every trace of musky cream. They battled one another, ravenous for more. He brushed the tip of his tongue along the roof of her mouth, and she sucked his probing muscle between her lips like a candy cane.

When she sounded short of breath, he pulled back to let her breathe, but he didn’t let her rest. Severus latched onto the side of her throat, laving her carotid and drawing a hot sting to her skin with some deep suction. She cried out, and her head lolled to the side. He stayed there until he knew she’d be wearing his mark for at least a week.

When he released her, an amethyst cabochon decorated the side her neck. He’d give her an anniversary-appropriate eleven love bites before the night was over. She’d be covered in his signature. Severus kissed her cheek and then shifted his gaze to the mirror.

She looked dazed and debauched, her legs lewdly spread and her breasts jiggling with each bump and grind. She’d given up clutching his coat, but she’d poked her pinky through one buttonhole, and by keeping it curled, had anchored herself to her favorite article of clothing. Her arm hung limply, secured only by her hooked little finger.

Severus smiled and pinched her left nipple with his right hand, using his arm to pin her even tighter to his body. She writhed in his grip, but he wanted her to feel his strength. She was ready to come, and nothing pushed her over the edge like a little restraint.

His other hand cupped her muff, and he lightly polished her pulsating pink pearl. As soon as he whispered the words “come for me,” she jerked wildly in his arms, shouting his praises to the ends of the earth. He’d be surprised if the whole Slytherin common room couldn’t hear her screaming his name. Her muscles clamped around him, and her tract undulated along his length. He now knew what it felt like to be hooked up to a milking machine.

Severus grunted her name as he exploded in her depths. His cock throbbed, countering every delicious squeeze of her sphincter with a propulsive surge of semen. His entire body tingled as if a current of electricity had passed over his skin.

When his bollocks were drained dry and her anus ceased its prolonged shudders of gratitude, Severus kissed the side of her damp face. They should bathe. He was sweating like a racehorse, and he needed to make sure his cock was clean for further celebration. Her forehead was misted with exertion and satisfaction, so he was sure she’d appreciate a cool shower as well. He wanted to fuck her against the tiled wall. And maybe again in the tub. They could spend the afternoon having a wet and wild orgy in their own personal water park.

Steel didn’t rust after all.


End file.
